Deviant Hearts Redux: A Moment irl
by Zeff N Company
Summary: Chapter 2 now available: "...y'know, in a twisted kind of way, this short little guy with his spiky hair and baby face could very well be our long-lost love child."
1. A Moment irl

_A return gift to pyjamaTerra - thanks for all the art!_

**_

* * *

_**

There is a loud clatter as the silver sword hits the ground. Aphotic turns in an instant.

_**"Hey boss, you alright?"**_

_**"... I'm fine," Rogan mutters, raising his head. In his eyes is a glint of light as he glares into space. "He's here."**_

_**"Who?" -as though to answer that question, a swirl of darkness bursts out of nowhere- "...oh, right. Never mind."**_

_**If there were to be a snappy comeback, it does not come. As the pair watch, the swirl seems to grow in mass, swiftly taking a relatively humanoid shape...before slipping away to reveal...**_

_**"Zeff..."**_

_**"Flypipe," the addressed persona drawls in reply. "I understand that you've been looking for me."**_

_**"Yeah." With that, Rogan picks up his sword again, holding it ready as he takes position. "Once I defeat you, the darkness will go away."**_

_**"So confident...but can you really do it?"**_

_**The dark blade - the Obsidian Key - is raised, pointing pass the silver sword's edge...pointing at Rogan's gloved right hand.**_

_**"You have a part in that darkness - all that comes from your own dark past..." -seeing Rogan flinch, Zeff's leer intensifies- "... Do you think you can erase all that happened between us?"**_

_**"Shut up, Zeff!"**_

_**"Touched a nerve, have I?" Ignoring the incensed youth's retort, he continues his taunt: "Face it - you turn your back on the present and live in the past. This glorious present you worked so hard for...perhaps you find it too...'bright'?"**_

_**"Don't," Rogan growls, "talk as if you know me."**_

_**"Yeah, yeah," a voice suddenly interrupts. "Feel free to ignore me while I stand here and look pretty."**_

_**"Stay out of this," Rogan replies at once. Aphotic raises his hands in a pacifying gesture, his expression one of casual disregard. The dark avatar, on the other hand, at last takes an interest.**_

_**"Ah. The cross-dresser," he identifies callously.**_

_**"Hello to you, too."**_

_**With a dismissive flair, the man returns his attention to Rogan in an instant. "You still keep so many worthless things about you?"**_

_**"And that's where you don't know him," Aphotic answers this time, his own smirk matching Zeff's sneer in defiance. "Us 'worthless things' are a lot more useful than you think."**_

_**"...really, now."**_

_**"Oh yeah: we're the ones that drag him out of his dark past, and into a lovely bright present by the scruff of his neck."**_

"...you know, I'm pretty sure I had a really stimulating conversation along these lines, once."

Squall hummed his acknowledgment before probing distractedly, "and who with?"

"Blatantly and bluntly: 'Hi there! My name's Cloud Strife, and I bang your ex-girlfriend'."

"Thanks for sharing."

"Anything for you, my not-all-that-secret affair."

At last did the brunet look up from the DVD box he held, and gave the other an odd look. "Mind explaining that one to me?"

"Your mentor's following grew bigger," the blond explained easily - all throughout, his eyes never left the small screen of the handheld game console balanced between his palms. "And considering how much he based off his RoganxAphotic works on us..."

"...we're gay now?"

"We're gay now," was the conclusion. "And on odd nights, we ride each other like Hardy-Daytonas on a bad stretch of road."

"...our positions?"

"Physically impossible between two men."

"How nice."

The DVD release of _Gaia Puntasy: Chaos' Essence_ was returned to the shelf, and Squall moved on to look upon other productions under the same franchise. There were few others in the video store with them, and these few were strangers who did not know them - thus, conversation was liberal with subject, and said subject persisted a little longer.

"And does the lovely significant other know?"

Cloud smirked as he answered, his thumbs working dexterously over the buttons. "She's the reigning president of the movement."

"A girlfriend breaks your heart," Squall uttered sagely, "but a fan girlfriend breaks your brain."

"Too true... Found it yet?"

"Not yet." As the statement came to past, Squall picked up a copy of _Those Left Behind_, flipped it over to read the summary, and then deftly returned it to the shelf once more. "You'd think that they would actually have more copies of _The Brave and the Free_ available, once the hype died down."

"That was two or three years ago."

"I know, innit? You'd think there would be a surplus by now..."

A tap of the button paused the game, and at last did Cloud look up. "You're a peon of the media industry: don't you follow the principle of 'out with the old, in with the new'?"

"_Gaia Puntasy_ is ageless, I'll have you know that."

"Then why in the name of Minerva did Four Ansems elope with Organization XIII to produce their mutant babies, _Deviant Hearts_ and _Deviant Hearts II_?"

"I thought you like _Deviant Hearts_," Squall rebutted, still scanning the shelves for the name he sought.

"Like it, schlike it - it's still the world's most welcomed fan art that you end up paying for."

"... Hard to argue with that."

With a happy hum, Cloud went back to his game, leaving Squall to resume his own hunting.

_**"We've got him now!"**_

_**And just like that, the fighter and ranger are off once again, easily clearing the obstacles that have been set in their paths. As they pursue their target through the portal, it snaps close behind them.**_

_**"Guys!"**_

_**"Don't worry."**_

_**Howling turns, and spots Terra - the agent has her handset out, speedily dialing a number.**_

_**"The Obsidian Lock needs an optimal amount of dark energy to be fully released. There's only one place that will grant it that."**_

_**The other two girls understand at once where that is. As Terra hits the last button, a loud ruckus echoes; in a moment, her airship touches down in the clearing but a short distance from them.**_

_**"Miser's lackeys were...careless, but thanks to the specs Aphotic stole from their database, the shields are now more than ready to handle entry into Rapture's Median," she adds. The handset is clicked shut, and she puts it away. "Let's go after them."**_

_**"... Terra." The agent pauses at the priestess' call, allowing her to continue. "Are you sure you want to do this?"**_

_**"Before, I wouldn't bother as much," Terra admits. "But that was until that guy decided to come here. He has my agents - I intend to get them back."**_

_**"But what if they-"**_

_**"I'll worry about that when I find them, but until then... The DSO never leave their own." With that, the agent approaches her ship; the door comes down to grant their entrance.**_

_**"It's time to settle this..."**_

"Nice to know I won't be left stranded with just a minor healing against a powerhouse for the third time running..."

"And you didn't look up strategies because...?"

"The only one that isn't illegible was written by a cricket in a top hat." The disgruntled comment was met with a humorous laugh.

"Do you dislike Jiminy C. that much?"

"Nothing against him - just the writing he probably BSed halfway through."

"If you say so."

Cloud chose that moment to look away from his handheld. As he looked across the street - giving his eyes some reprieve from prolonged squinting at the small screen - said eyes widened into a saucer-like semblance, and his jaw fell open at once. It took a costly moment before he thought to pause his game and continue gawking in peace.

"...dude."

"What's up?"

"Did I pull a Rip Van Winkle and return to the real world on the evening before Halloween?" At the question, Squall looked away from the shelves, and his brows danced in recognition of the spectacle they beheld.

"Cosplayers."

"A whole pack of them."

True to the blond spectator's emphasis, the moving crowd before them stuck out amidst the usual passers-by like a sore thumb. It took Cloud a moment longer to wear out the shock, and allow intrigue to set in...then that duration accelerated considerably as the same group decided to have a little entertainment right there and then.

"Hey, check that out." At his lead, Squall soon spotted the same thing, and his own facade cracked in a suppressed grin.

"... I see Rogan."

"... With a lance." The commentary paused to the loud commotion of "fighting" characters, before resuming:

"And there goes Aphotic's underpants," as he concluded, Cloud smirked openly at the unceremonious display presented before him. "Nice work with the dress, though."

"The traditional interpretation of in-game 'realism movement' that is repeated air-humping makes me chuckle so..."

"...think if I offered them a twenty, they would-?"

"They're fan girls, Cloud," Squall broke in with the air of a veteran. "Just offer to take their picture, and they'll gladly perform a series of Rootic yaoi that would convert waves of future generations to the proverbial Dark Side."

"What I would _give_ for a camera right about now...wait a minute - fan _girls_?"

Squall nodded, pointing back at where "Rogan" was returning the borrowed lance, and the cross-dressing "Aphotic" was chatting with someone else. "Fan girls. Both of them."

"Holy Matron of Gaia...!"

"Don't act so surprised," Squall countered the further comment. "Of all the cosplayers that I've seen, most of them are female."

"...the world has legally taken all the fictional characters we hold dear and butchered their appearance, their wardrobe, their personalities, their sexualities, and their gender," Cloud concluded. "Well played, fandom. Well mother-effin' played."

"Welcome to my world, Cloud."

"Comforting...just be sure to shoot me out of mercy if any of these delightful ladies take to the streets dressed as the two of us."

The comment caused Squall to quirk a brow, as he at last found a surviving copy of the CGI animated movie he wanted. "I doubt we're _that_ famous."

"Somewhere out there, in an alternate universe with you and me and a whole lot of people...we will be, Leon. We will be."

Awaiting the counter staff to scan his purchase, Squall contemplated on the statement for a moment, cast his eyes skyward and sighed deeply.

"... 'Leon Leonhart', huh? With a name like that, I'll never leave the house again."

_

* * *

_

Ah, Leon of so little faith...if only you knew...


	2. Not a brand of pasta sauce

_Disclaimer as follows: Reference has been taken from MSN conversations, the Green Screen Show hosted by Drew Carey, and the curiously intriguing move that is improv with action figures. My thanks to seanmonster of dA for being the creative comic artist that he is._

* * *

"... So now - according to my cousin - I'm a shameless advocate of homoerotic pornography, but at least I make money."

"All hail the finest role model that money could never buy."

In the brief moment that followed, Squall smirked at the remark before continuing. "Still, it was good of her to bring the kids down for Halloween."

"That oldest one of hers is your favorite, right?" Cloud suddenly asked, once more reclining over the top of his friend's duvet as he flipped through a game magazine.

"Did I mention he's the one I told my first story to when he was a baby?"

"Refresh my memory."

"That one about a moogle and a stuffed cat going into psychotic states of violent insanity, wrecking enough havoc in the city to declare three states of emergency and send Godzilla quivering under a rock, all for the sake of the elusive flying papaya?"

"... So he _is_ your favorite."

With that conclusion met, the topic took a slight detour: "So..."

"Hm?"

"Why did you want to borrow Rogan and Aphotic, anyway?"

"The party you decided to skip out on needed some extra decor. We added some touches for the holiday season, and the kids loved them." That final comment brought pause to the brunet's actions, and he looked up at once.

"...touches," he repeated carefully.

"Touches," his friend confirmed smugly. With a swift move, he brought forth the two subjects of their discussion. "Consider this your belated 'trick', old boy."

Squall stared numbly at the two figures that looked so very different - albeit rather interesting - before daring his question: "Not permanent, is it?"

"Wouldn't risk my hide - they're still in one piece underneath."

"Thanks for that, I guess..." the brunet trailed off as he at last picked up one of the two action figures presented to him, his brow quirked as he took in its new appearance. "...and what are they supposed to be dressed as?"

Cloud was grinning like a cat with a cream vat, still comfortably reclined as he provided his answer fluidly. "Do you remember that story your mentor wrote - _Fancy Meeting You Here_?"

"...don't tell me," Squall uttered, looking upon both figures with new understanding. "The noble and the officer?"

"My girlfriend thought it was hilarious when she made their costumes..."

* * *

_"Good evening, Lieutenant," the host purred, his expression sly as ever as he added, "fancy meeting you here."_

_Unimpressed, the young officer crossed his arms over his chest as he gave his reply. "With all due respect, Lord Wraith, don't give me that."_

_The addressed host lowered his glass, and his brows danced in open invitation. "What_ever _do you mean?"_

_"It was you who had me recommended as one of the General's escort troops; it's all over the paperwork."_

_"Ah," was the noble's only comeback to being so easily caught red-handed, "and Terra let you out for it?"_

_"The _Captain_," the Lieutenant corrected promptly with vehemence, "had her doubts, but she has at least some trust in your...motivation."_

_"I knew I liked that girl for a reason," the young lord drawled lazily. "And I've told you before, Rogan - there will be none of these silly titles between us."_

_"And _I _told _you_," the officer uttered back firmly, somehow holding up against the many eyes that were staring their way. "_Not _in public like this. You're a noble, milord, so do yourself a favor and act like one."_

_"Hm...very well." That said, Lord Wraith turned to follow a passing attendant, at last setting his glass down upon an offered tray. "I have need of your service for a brief moment, _Lieutenant_."_

_A very familiar feeling of dread crept through Rogan's gut, and still he managed to stand his ground as he gave his answer: "Your pardon, Lord Wraith, but I am here to serve the General."_

_"I spoke to him - he doesn't mind having an officer short, so long as you're back in time for the ceremony."_

_"I am obligated to my post-"_

_"You want to play this the hard way, huh?" The question ended off with a soft, grinding sound, and when the noble spoke again, his voice was clipped and formal. "As a member of His Majesty's court, and first representative of the Admiral, I order you to assist me in my intention. What is your answer, Lieutenant?"_

_And just like that, the man had won; the officer could only salute as he answered crisply: "Your wish is my command, milord."_

_"Well said; come this way, Lieutenant."_

_That feeling of dread worsened, even as Rogan dutifully followed the other man away from the crowd and out the French Windows. They were soon down the flight of stairs, toward the lavish garden that spread before them._

_The officer had not taken more than two steps away from the stairway before a hand seized his upper arm in a vice-like grip, drawing him in even as the smug voice declared, "private enough for you, now...?"_

_Rogan paled, realizing at once that his dread was answered in exactness. He had _known _something like this would happen, and still he had let the insatiable man draw him in just like that...! Any further thought was jarred to a halt as he found himself suddenly in a very compromising position._

_"I don't think-"_

_"Quiet, you," Lord Wraith cut him off at once. "I'm going to make this all worth my time. The General can go make a fool of himself for all I care - I'm just paying for _his _glory-hogging ceremony."_

_"But we can't do this here!" Rogan protested, struggling with a battle that was already lost. "Not _now_!"_

_"Don't be silly - it's such a romantic night. Like in the books. If not here, where? If not now, when? I've been so patient, but I've also been so lonely..." _

* * *

In the face of Cloud's satisfied leer, Squall carefully cleared his throat, though the grin on his face was a lot less cooperative. "...it's not funny."

"Search your feelings, Leonhart. You know it to be true."

"All _I_ know, Darth Strife," Squall countered, "is that you've been tossed into a deeper end of the Dark Side than I once thought possible."

"I have a fan girlfriend; don't judge me so. Besides, _she_ liked it."

A single dark brow arched once as the brunet fired back. "And she told you that?"

"Not really; she couldn't breathe when I asked."

"And why was that?"

"She was laughing too hard."

A single snort punctuated his reply to the last statement, and Squall turned "Aphotic" in "his" aristocratic garments over once more. "These are nice, though. I'll have to thank her for them."

"All in good time. What now?"

"Take them off for storage; Halloween's over," was the simple yet final verdict...for the moment. "...alright, tell her that she can play dress-up with them again in the coming convention."

"She'll thank _you_ for that," Cloud replied simply, already reaching for "Rogan" in "his" military uniform. As he undid the fasteners, he suddenly paused, looking from the action figure in his hands to his friend a few times in sequence. The repetition ended as a new strange grin appeared on his features. "...he-e-e-e-e-e-e-ey...!"

"What now?"

"This guy looks kind of like you."

"Rogan?"-an amused huff-"I don't have spikes like those."

"_I_ do," Cloud countered, albeit in his distracted state as he held up the plastic figurine for better scrutiny. "...y'know, in a twisted kind of way, this short little guy with his spiky hair and baby face could very well be our long-lost love child."

"...when was the last time you actually listened to yourself speak?"

"Seriously..."

"No, _not_ seriously."

"Come on... I know that look from a mile away," Cloud was egging. "You had that same look when you sullied three kid-friendly cartoon shows with your running commentary on subtle phallus."

"...alright, fine." And Squall held out his hand in open invitation to the other. "We ride together, we go completely insane together."

"Bad boys for life."

* * *

_"Ah. Tis' you, Aphotic Wraith. I can only presume my father cast you upon this mortal realm."_

_The addressed messenger came to a stop but a distance from the other, standing with necessary poise. "Hello, Rogan."_

_"I shall have no business with the petty ones most powerful in their twisted immortality," the addressed one spoke again, his hand up in a dismissive wave. "Be gone, peon."_

_"Why does the son of my master keep denying his...demigodliness?!" Aphotic suddenly snapped, all tension lost with a word he could only hope appeared in the dictionary. "Do you not have a share in the blood of a divine being?"_

_"I feel more kindred to those on four legs with fur than my own father," Rogan's answer was delivered with an icy sting, "for that blood is colder than a serpent's."_

_"Rogan, my liege, ignore not the kinship!" the messenger appealed once more. "For it was your father that bore you!"_

_"Be silent!"_

_"Deny it not! You were born from your father's _womb_!" Aphotic cried. "Your father was involved with a mortal man, and thus your father is also your mother!"_

_"A horrid truth," Rogan admitted at last. "That my father would actually be my mother before declaring himself my father...he was a motherfather..."_

_"Yet, you have so vowed to _kill _that motherfather!"_

"...this is getting vulgar."

"Hey, we're just talking about you, 'Dad'."

"Oy vey."

_Time resumed for the imaginary world, and so did Aphotic continue to persuade the one before him. "Reconsider your decision, sir, and in turn reallocate your position; would you not prefer to be amongst the deities...compared to shepherding of sheep and goats?"_

_"Better a leader to these simple animals so devoted in their love, than to be below the very toenails of arrogant immortals," Rogan retorted tersely. "I value my pride, man, and I refuse to be underfoot!"_

_"...my liege, I fear you have truly gone mad."_

_"Do not fear, but _know _that I am_ _mad, foolish mouthpiece," Rogan snapped. "I mean, _look _at me - I'm the son of a motherfather...!"_

* * *

"The Pater's going to have a field day with this one, I think..."

"You started it."

"And you enhanced it."

With a snort, Squall slipped the rest of the costume from "Aphotic's" plastic frame, leaving behind his fixed garb for _Deviant Hearts_. "I can't believe we're a pair of grown men who play with dolls."

"You gotta admit, though, it's kind of fun," Cloud answered in turn, adding to the pile the miniature uniform pieces that once covered "Rogan".

"Whatever happened to dignity?"

"We've been declared gay by a following of fan girls - full physical relationship and all! There _is_ no freakin' dignity!"

"That reminds me," and the brunet turned with a stern look upon his countenance as he brought his question, "how is it I'm the one on the bottom in that non-existent relationship?"

"You did that to yourself when you got drunk on Cid's cocktail."

"...what did I...?"

"See if you remember this..." Sliding off the bed, Cloud suddenly straightened in a suave pose and sung out:

"_I HAVE BUTT BELTS AND I CANNOT LIE!_"

And that was when Squall fell off his chair and hit the floor amidst maniacal cackling resounding from more than one corner of the building.

"I hate getting drunk..." he muttered, the blond head hovering upside-down in his line of vision.

"And that, my loving and devoted partner, is why _I_ top."

"Shut up."


End file.
